


Silence Turns Into Screams

by ijusthavealotoffeelings



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Almost Kiss, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Cooking, Dry Humping, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time for Everything Fest, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm say it again just to be safe, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injured Will, Investigations, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, PTSD imagery, Past Rape/Non-con, Possessive Hannibal, Resolved Sexual Tension, Self-Harm, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, So Much Sexual Tension, Someone Helps Will Graham, Straddling, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, TRIGGER WARNING!!, Therapy, Timeline What Timeline, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, What Have I Done, Will Graham Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Will Graham-centric, Will Loves Hannibal, but also heavy fluff, but there is also sexual intimacy, did I mention trigger warning?, i'm even mad at myself for how long it takes them to just kiss already, it just comes much later on, like super slow burn, prepare yourself, seriously though please check all the tags, this is a rollercoaster of emotions tbh, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijusthavealotoffeelings/pseuds/ijusthavealotoffeelings
Summary: After being assaulted and rushed to the hospital, Will's friends attempt to piece his pysche back together. But Will knows it's useless, as the only person that could truly heal him was the one that made his life the mess it was even before the attack took place. But there was no other choice; he'd have to take the risk of betrayal, yet again, and this time, he has everything to lose.oOoWhen Hannibal learns that Will was attacked and assaulted, he's out for blood. Will was his to hurt, but most certainly not in that repulsive, unforgivable way. And, whoever the man responsible is, he's going to pay dearly once Hannibal finds him. And he will enjoy it with every fiber of his being.*updated weekly, typically on sunday****Current hiatus, will be back as soon as possible!***





	1. Putting the Puzzle Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: talk of moderately-graphic to highly-graphic rape in this chapter.  
> If you are triggered at any point throughout this story, please please PLEASE contact this hotline: 1-800-656-4673 if you need someone to talk to.  
> I will post a warning before any chapter that may be triggering.  
> Be safe my lovely readers and take care of yourselves <3

When Will awoke, he didn’t know where he was. Questions poured into his mind, head woozy, body aching, his bones weighed down in agony. His very first thought was that he wanted to be home with his dogs. He wished for it so bad, tried to convince himself he was as he attempted to open his heavy eyelids. But the damp pavement underneath him told him a different story.

Upon breaking free of his drowsy state, Will instinctually looked down at his aching body to find something more sickening than any murder the Chesapeake Ripper could’ve preformed. He was completely naked and covered in blood, bruises, gashes, and- what was that? Muddied handprints?

Will’s clothes were strewn about around him in what looked like a sort of alleyway, dim lights attached to the buildings surrounding him providing only minimal visibility. There were foul-smelling garbage cans to his right, along with various beer bottles and shattered glass on the ground. To his left, not too far away, was a street- and a busy one- with the sound of loud, fast-paced music coming from the building he was lying against.

His confusion reached a peak until, suddenly, reluctantly, his mind offered him a memory, a memory he wished to God would fade as soon as it entered his head.

_A man was standing above him, a man with strong arms dragging him into the alleyway next the bar he’d come from, the stench of booze intoxicating on his breath. His futile attempts to throw him off did absolutely nothing, as if suddenly all his defensive training was useless, as if having just one beer suddenly made him helpless. One beer that made his head heavy, leaving him feeling week. One beer…_

Will jerked upward at the realization of what had happened: his drink had been drugged. But why? He had no quarrels with people- at least, not anyone that would physically attack him. He frantically gathered his torn-up clothes surrounding him, pulling them on with aching muscles. But there was still a vital piece of the story missing, the _what_ of was done to him when he finally passed out. He wracked his brain, looking for something that was always just barely out of reach.

He needed to get home. No, he needed to go to the police, file a report. But how could he with all the questions he would be unable to answer?

Finally, Will found the energy to stand up, a mortifying pain in his lower back and ass overtook him.

 _No_ , Will thought helplessly, _anything but that._

Then, more memories came, leaving him to simply sway unsteadily on his feet, his face pale with mortification.

_There was a hand tugging at his belt, a knife cutting off the buttons to his shirt. Soon he was naked, crushed on the hard ground under the weight of the man. He could distantly feel someone straddling his waist, hurting him, pleasure riding off him because of Will’s pain, because of his inability to protect himself, because he felt too weak to cry out for help. Someone was touching him in the worst way and all Will wanted was to stop him, but his drugged mind and limp body could do nothing to protect himself._

Doing everything in his power to keep calm, Will took deep breaths as he agonizingly pulled on his pants. But he felt his breath catch in his throat as he felt a sticky substance on the inside of his thighs that stuck to his jeans. Then, another memory began to surface, a memory that Will struggled to push down and managed to suppress. If he went to the police, they could identify the man with what he knew was a —  kit. He couldn’t bring himself to even _think_ the word. But if he reported it he could stop it from happening to someone else. He needed to go at that very moment, to the hospital first where they could heal his physical injuries, and would contact the authorities himself. It was the morally right thing to do, he felt, but fell into his selfish desires to abstain. They’d question him relentlessly, asking him to relive it. He could possibly face the man in court and recount to a jury and judge what happened, if he was somehow strong enough to stand trial.

It would break him.

Mind made up and mustering up all his might after buttoning up what was left of his tattered shirt, he walked out of the alley, heading for home.

But that’s not where he ended up.

Just sitting in the driver’s seat in his car sent shocks of unbearable and humiliating pain throughout him, and he realized he needed help. But his phone was gone and Will realized the man had taken it, and suddenly searched his pockets to find his wallet was missing.

Instant dread flooded him. His ID was in there. The man knew who he was now.

Forcing himself to leave his car and stumble to somewhere safe where he could get help was about the hardest thing he had to do, his legs weak and shaking, entire body shivering in the cold.

The closest place to walk to was the bar he was at before it happened, but no way in _hell_ was he going back there. Will glanced around frantically before heading for the back roads, where he’d be taken into a small suburban town that he trusted enough to put his health, his _life_ in its hands.

But Will didn’t get very far. The drugging was still wearing off and he paused after only twenty yards to puke up bile. The urge to lay down, there in the parking lot, overwhelmed him and he gave up, unable to muster up the strength to move on, and let himself fall limp onto the asphalt, beginning to pass out from exhaustion. Will, even in his disheveled state, knew he'd need someone to help repair him, but only laughed mirthlessly because he knew no one could fix someone so broken.


	2. The Aftermath

Will awoke to the sound of steady beeping coming somewhere above him. There was a dull, aching pain throughout his entire body and he felt dizzy. He tried to open his eyes, but was blinded by bright lights, and was overwhelmed with an odd scent- almost like… _a hospital._

Oh no.

Will forced his eyes open in a panic, frantically looking around the room to find Alana and Jack in the corner, rising to their feet upon his waking up. They could tell he was caught off guard so they treaded lightly.

“Why am I here?”

“Will, what do you remember?”

Jack asked, cautiously approaching his bed.

“Tell me why I’m here.”

Alana and Jack exchanged grim looks.

“Will, somebody found you passed out in a parking lot. You were hurt really bad.”

Alana said softly but Will only shook his head.

“No, I-I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,”

Jack rebutted.

“You were in bad shape when they found you— you still are. We’re worried, Will. And you can’t brush this under the rug. The police will be here later to question you and you need to cooperate—”

“You don't get it; it’s not like that.”

Alana sat down next to him on the edge of the bed, trying to hold his gaze, her voice gentle.

“Will, the doctors told us the extent of your injuries. They know what it is…and so do we.”

“You don’t understand. I was robbed. That’s it.”

“…I know you don’t want to accept it. But they did a rape kit and—”

“Don’t say that!”

He interrupted with shout, his eyes wide and panicked. This was all some bad dream, it _had_ to be.

“Will, please,”

She whispered.

“You deserve more than this. We can catch this guy but you have to tell us what happened.”

“Nothing happened. It couldn’t’ve.”

Alana looked to the floor, unable to bring herself to try to console him any longer. What in the hell could she say to him that would be comforting? Would it be a lie to say everything would be alright?

“I called Dr. Lecter. He’ll be here soon.”

Jack broke the silence. Will’s eyes widened and he sat up in the bed, trying to slow his racing heart.

 _Not him_ , Will thought, _not when I’m like this._

“Why would you do that?”

He managed to ask relatively calmly.

“He’s your psychiatrist, Will. I thought it might be easier to talk to him than one of us.”

Will scoffed at that, pushing back all the voices in his head that knew that was true.  After a moment, Alana added,

“Hannibal knows what he’s doing. He could help you.”

“Help me?”

No, Hannibal wouldn’t help him; he’d heal him. He’d consume him. Then he’d become addicted again.

“We just want you safe. Okay? Don’t let this break you.”

“I’m already broken.”

Alana looked to the floor and it was silent for a while, aside from the monitors beeping at his bedside.

Of everything that could’ve happened, of everything that couldn’t have, why this? Why him? But Will knew those questions were pointless. It was less of asking, _why me?_ and more of realizing, _why not me?_

The continual silence was interrupted after what felt like an eternity when Hannibal appeared in the doorway and slowly entered the room. All eyes turned on him and Will swallowed down the lump in his throat, feeling vulnerable and oddly embarrassed.

“Will, how are you feeling?”

When Hannibal went to stand by his bed, Alana and Jack exchanged glances and simultaneously left the room.

Will chuckled bitterly at Hannibal’s question. 

“How do you think?”

Will retorted, gesturing to his beat up and bandaged body. Hannibal ignored his sarcasm and pulled up a chair next to him.

“I know the extent of your physical injuries, Will, but not the extent of your psychological ones.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor, but I would say you enjoy hurting me, and now you’re asking about how I’m _feeling_?”

Hannibal considered him for a moment before replying.

“I’m not going to deny I’ve hurt you, Will, just as you wouldn’t deny you’ve hurt me. It is in our nature.”

“What’s your point?”

Will interrupted.

“There is a difference between a more brutal form of art and overt savagery. We lean on the former, Will. The man that did this to you does not.”

“That’s ironic coming from you.”

Hannibal let out a sigh.

“There are far crueler crimes than murder, and rape happens to be one of them.”

“Don’t say that,”

He snapped. God, everyone kept saying that word, and he’d do anything to make nobody ever say it again. Words can be validation, confirmation of things, and he did not want confirmation of _that._

“I want to help you, Will. But you need to trust me.”

“Trust you? No, I’ve made that mistake before.”

“…The games we play are far inferior in importance to this. I wish to put that past behind us. You’ve been through a traumatic experience, Will, and you need to heal. But you can’t do it alone.”

Will’s eyes wandered the ceiling, contemplating Hannibal’s words. One part of him- the logical part- was telling him to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. But the other half- the one high on power and darkness- whispered to rekindle what they’d started together, and to heal with Hannibal by his side. He could save Will and bring out the beast in him at the same time. He’d be better and, more than that, he’d be himself.

But if Hannibal was just luring him out with empty sentiments, he’d be irreparably shattered. Was it worth the risk, to just have him for a little while before his demise?

_Yes, it was._

Will slowly looked to Hannibal, searching for a trace of betrayal in his eyes, but only found barely-contained anger threatening to boil over to the surface.

He had caused that rage. His _hurting_ had caused it.

“I trust you.”

Will muttered, sealing his fate that could go in two very different directions.

Hannibal smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to put this up sooner but this month iS A TOTAL CLUSTERFUCK I'M ALL OVER THE PLACE  
> buuuut I got it finished :) I'm aiming to have the next chapter up June 3rd or 4th but it may be a little later (or earlier, if I'm lucky)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and stay tuned!  
> 


	3. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: talk of mildly to moderately-graphic rape in this chapter. If you are triggered, please contact this hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> Read with caution <3

Will spent the rest of the day at the hospital while he was being interrogated before he was finally released (against doctor’s recommendation) to go home. Beverly offered to drive him home when she caught wind of what happened. She was silent throughout the majority of the long ride, which Will appreciated; he’d been asked enough questions and was glad at least one of his friends was kind enough the leave the subject be for the moment.

When they pulled into the driveway, Beverly turned to him a bit hesitantly, and simply said,

“I’d say things will get better and to call me if you need someone to talk to, but I’m sure you’re sick of hearing that.”

Will laughed feebly.

“Yeah. It seems nobody realizes you can’t break what’s already broken.”

“Unless the broken pieces break too.”

Will considered that for a moment and got out of the car without another word. He forced himself not to look back as he walked up to the porch and through his front door. There he stood frozen until he heard Beverly drive away, leaving him alone.

His dogs all came running to him, which helped him relax and distract himself as he fed them and tended to them for a while. Eventually, though, sleep tugged at his eyes and he knew that’d he’d have to go to bed soon, even though he wouldn’t be able to fight off the nightmares that were sure to plague him.

Reluctantly, he got into bed around nine, and spent a long time simply trying to get comfortable, considering his injuries, but sleep eventually overtook him. And that’s when the dreams came.

_Hands were grasping at his hips, leaving bruising fingerprint marks. The asphalt was cold beneath his bare skin and he felt little pebbles and rocks cutting into him. The man was moaning loudly as Will feebly squirmed under him, feeling absolute agony shock his body, stronger every time the man thrust._

When Will awoke with a gasp, the first thing his instincts told him to do was to reach for his phone and call Hannibal. He didn’t want to think about why he needed to hear his voice, why he didn’t want to be alone when that was what he’d been asking for all day. All he wanted in the moment was Hannibal and he wasn’t going to waste a single minute trying to sort out his thoughts.

His hand shook as he dialed his number, breathing raspy as he brought the phone up to his ear. Hannibal finally answered after three rings.

“Yes?”

“H-hey Hannibal, it’s me.”

“Is there a particular reason you’re calling me at four o’clock in the morning, Will?”

“I just need to talk. Or…no, I don’t wanna do that. I don’t know,”

Will sighed, a bit embarrassed to realize he didn’t know what to ask of Hannibal.

“Are you having nightmares about what happened?”

“Yeah.”

He could tell how small his voice was and only hated himself all the more for it.

“Would you like me to come over? I don’t mind the drive, Will,”

He added. Will took in a deep breath, steeling himself for the night (morning?) to come.

“I’d like that. Thanks, Hannibal. Sorry this is so sudden.”

“There’s no need for apology; I am perfectly fine with coming to meet you. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

Will hung up at that, incapable of continuing the tense conversation.

What was he even going to do? Most every time he’d had a conversation with Hannibal, it’d been corrupt with manipulation techniques and blatant lies. Sure, he’d told himself it was worth the risk- and it was- but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like it did. Would this time be any different from the last? How could he be sure this wasn’t Hannibal just fucking with his head again? That’s the thing: he _didn’t_ know.

Will realized how important him trusting Hannibal really was. Their relationship insofar had been based on deceit. Could he be able to strengthen the pillars or just keep taking off weight?

And was it even worth it to worry about all these things when there was a possibility he was wrong? It was a very small possibility, yes, but a possibility nonetheless.

oOo

Will continued to sit on his bed, sweaty but cold, his phone lying next to him as he stared into space, his mind occupied by absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. He thought the quiet, still night would remain serene and calm, until Will was broken out of his trance by a politely timed knock.

When Will glanced to the clock, he was shocked by how much time as passed.

He was so distracted by the surreal feeling of it all that for a moment that he didn’t have time to start to panic.

Hannibal was behind that door, Will thought, Hannibal was here are there was no going back.

Will forced himself up and walked cautiously across his house and, very slowly, opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this chapter! I'm hoping to have chapter four up by next Saturday, but as is evident, I'm not the most punctual person. Nevertheless I'll update as fast as I can considering my schedule.  
> Also prepare for pretty heavy angst in the next chapter


	4. You Are Worth It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mild talk of rape in this chapter. If you are triggered, please contact this hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> Read with caution <3

Opening the door to come face to face with Hannibal was absolutely terrifying for Will. There he was, standing in his doorway, a concerned look on his face, but Will couldn’t help but erupt into laughter.

“Will, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just—”

Will managed to choke down his laughter.

“It’s just I called you in the middle of the night when you were sleeping, and you come here in a suit.”

“Technically, it was early morning,”

Hannibal corrected. Will simply shook his head, a smile on his face, before standing aside to let Hannibal in.

“I assume you do not want to talk about it?”

Hannibal asked as Will closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh.

“I don’t really know.”

Will sat back on his bed, looking anywhere but at Hannibal.

“Have you remembered more of what happened? Traumatic events can come back in pieces in the form of dreams or flashbacks.”

“At this point, I don’t know much. Like you said, it comes back in pieces. The ones I have don’t quite fit together yet.”

“Can you tell me what you _do_ remember?”

Will shifted uncomfortably in his spot as Hannibal pulled up a chair and sat down next to his bed.

“…I remember I couldn’t fight. My arms were just…useless. I wanted to yell for help but my voice just wouldn’t—”

Will ran a hand over his face, wanting to just wash away everything that had happened the last few days.

“Someone drugged my beer. I don’t know who. I went there alone. There’s a blank spot in between when I got there and the actual attack.”

Hannibal’s jaw tightened and he worked to tame the fire in his stomach.

“I-I remember…”

Will closed his eyes over unshed tears, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“…Will? What is it?”

Will let out a shaky breath, feeling tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I remember the sound of him moaning.”

“Do you have any idea as to who your attacker may be?”

“I didn’t see his face. Or maybe I just don’t remember it.”

“…Will, what did he do to you?”

“You know what—”

“I mean specifically,”

Hannibal interrupted and, for whatever reason, Will found himself telling the man the details, when he didn’t even want to think about them.

Hannibal was gaining control over him again, so quickly, so easily.

“He took me to an alley. I was lying on the ground- pavement, I think. He…he cut off the buttons to my shirt with a knife. His hands were cold, I remember that, and muddy. He didn’t- he—”

Will’s throat closed up, stopping the words, anguish and embarrassment rendering him speechless.

“He didn’t what, Will?”

Hannibal prompted and waited patiently for Will’s voice to return to him.

“…He didn’t, you know, prepare me…”

“For penetration?”

“Yes,”

Will forced the words out through gritted teeth.

“Was he wearing protection?”

“It didn’t…it didn’t feel like it,”

“How so?”

Will closed his eyes and turned his face away from Hannibal, angry and defeated and hopeless all at once.

“…It was rough. Really rough. And dry.”

Hannibal simply nodded. His face appeared emotionless, but his eyes revealed the rage boiling beneath his skin, heating his blood. When he found the man that did it…he’d have his fun with him, definitely. Different forms of torture flashed through his mind and he decided he’d sort out the ones most suited for predators, for _rapists,_ later when he had time to think. For the moment, he needed to focus on Will and see how much information he could get.

Finding this guy was now his top priority. The son of a bitch marked what wasn’t his, hurt him in a way no one should ever hurt him. And he was going to pay dearly for it.

But there was one detail he was missing that he needed to know.

“Will, this is a very personal question, but I need to know…do you remember if you involuntarily orgasmed?”

Will felt bile rise in his throat and he forcefully swallowed it down.

“I know they didn’t find any of your semen on your person, but it is possibly he—”

“Don’t say it,”

Will cut him off in a small voice. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his facing heart, his stomach churning at the thought of it.

“…I don’t know. I-I don’t remember.”

Hannibal nodded again, and they lapsed into silence, their minds wandering in different directions.

“Will, when you fully recover all of your memories,”

Hannibal eventually said, breaking the silence,

“I would like for you to tell me. Even the smallest detail can be the key to catching this man.”

“You can’t kill him, Hannibal.”

“…He does not deserve to live after—”

“They’ll know it was you,”

He interrupted.

“You of all people should know it’s too risky.”

Hannibal simply shook his head at Will, an almost disbelieving look in his eyes.

“You are my friend, Will. The authorities discovering I was the one who killed this man is not of import.”

This only confused Will further. After everything Hannibal had done to hurt him, why would he risk his arrest to avenge him? Why did he suddenly care if he was hurting?

“I won’t let you,”

Will muttered at last, avoiding his gaze.

“You do not believe he deserves just punishment?”

“I believe killing him is not worth it.”

“Are you blind enough to truly think that I would not take that risk for you?”

“Hannibal, _it’s not worth it._ ”

Will repeated but Hannibal simply shook his head again.

“It is worth it for you, Will. All of it.”

And that’s when Will fell, all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that took forever for me to finish! The angst was draining my motivation.  
> Anyway, I hope you're enjoying! I have no idea when the next chapter will be up, but I'm hoping it will be within two weeks.  
> Stay tuned!


	5. Nothing to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY FOR THE ALL THIS ANGST I HOPE I CAN MAKE UP FOR IT WITH THIS FLUFFY CHAPTER

The rest of the morning, Will focused on distracting himself from the pain in both his body and his heart. He threw himself into his work and hobbies, his dogs refusing to leave his side, as if they could sense his distress. A snow storm had began brewing, as well, and Will could guess they didn't want to be alone, either.

Hannibal had left after their awkward conversation, insisting on cooking something for him but finding no sufficient ingredients in Will's kitchen, so he headed to his house, promising to be back within three hours. Will refrained from requesting a vegetarian dish. It was the least of his worries at that point.

But as Will worked, he couldn't help but think back to everything Hannibal had said. Had he meant what he said or was he just manipulating Will like before? All those words, those unbelievably sweet and protective words, couldn't possibly true...could they? Will was no fool- especially after everything Hannibal had put him through- but he sensed no betrayal in Hannibal's words. Maybe, just maybe, he was being genuine.

Or maybe Hannibal was getting better at tricking him.

No matter the answer, he had no other option, so pushed those thoughts out of his head.

oOo

After two hours having passed since had Hannibal left, Will began to feel nervous of his return. The air had been thick with tension after Hannibal's declaration and, for a moment, Will wanted nothing more than for Hannibal to reach out and touch him like he used to, to not act like he was so broken that he couldn't take it. But he knew that wasn't the problem. Not really.

While Hannibal was able to manipulate him quite easily, Will still had the power of his empathy, and he could tell that Hannibal didn't want to show his adoration of Will. He knew it wasn't exactly about what he'd been through, but about what _they'd_ been through. Hannibal was attempting to not show the same affection because he didn't want Will to think it was all a trick.

It was an inexplicable way to show he cared.

But, if Hannibal truly _did_ care, then he didn't understand why, for what was there to love?

He wasn't like the works of art Hannibal had hanging around his house. His heart didn't run freely, his eyes didn't shine, his mind wasn't poetic.

There was no beauty there, not in his empty body.

Not anymore.

oOo

After about three and a half hours, Will was broken out of his reverie by the sound of a knock on his door echoing through his house.

Taking a deep breath, Will opened the door to the sight of Hannibal with an almost apologetic smile on his face, carrying a medium sized cooler in his hands.

"I apologize for my tardiness,"

Hannibal said as Will moved aside to let him in.

"The roads have become quite icy."

Will glanced outside to see snow starting to accumulate on the ground, the sky covered with gray clouds.

"At least tell me you made something simple."

Will said as he closed the door behind him, a chill running through the house.

"Of course I have,"

He dismissed smoothly.

"I had very limited time."

"I could have just heated something up in the microwave."

Will said, just to see Hannibal scrunch up his nose in distaste.

"I would prefer you to eat real food, Will."

Will only snorted and took a seat at the table, watching as Hannibal sat down the cooler on his kitchen counter, and began pulling out food and what looked like fancy Tupperware.

"I have plates, you know."

"I'm aware."

Hannibal replied, sending a teasing look Will's way.

Hannibal then set the table the best he could, trying to mimic his usual dinnertime atmosphere, by presenting the soup and sandwiches he'd made as he would with any meal.

"I didn't know you knew how to make sandwiches."

Will said as he looked down at his plate, amused.

"Nonsense,"

Hannibal replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I will always make meals appropriate for whatever the occasion. I like to challenge myself when I cook- it is an art, after all- but I assumed you would want something more familiar at the moment."

Will nodded his appreciation and a silence fell over them, with Will trying to focus on eating, and not on how Hannibal kept stealing glances at him.

It was going to be a long day.

oOo

After they finished eating, Hannibal insisted on helping clean the wounds Will obtained on his neck and face, reminding him, _"_ _I was a surgeon, Will, I'm quite informed on proper cleansing procedures."_

Will sighed as he sat down on his couch, Hannibal looking through his first-aid kit that he only had in case he sleepwalked outside and ended up hurting himself.

"I do not have much to work with, but I will make do."

Will rolled his eyes and Hannibal pulled out a mild solution, bandages, and an anti-biotic ointment.

His wounds were not plentiful on his face, and not as bad as the ones covering the rest of his body, but his doctor _did_ say to keep them clean.

Hannibal sat across from Will in a chair and poured some of the antiseptic solution onto a washcloth, and gently dabbed at the scabbed cuts on Will's face.

"My apologies,"

Hannibal murmured when Will hissed from the stinging.

It was an intimate thing, Will realized, having Hannibal care for him like this, sitting so close he could feel his breath ghosting across his face.

Not exactly the best position to be in, considering their earlier conversation.

It felt almost romantic, with the lights dimmed, the snow storm raging on outside, and Hannibal cleaning him with a gentleness he'd never felt before, even with lovers.

If someone had told him years ago that he'd end up in this position, in this situation, with the Chesapeake Ripper, he would've thought they were insane. But yet, there they were.

"Is your mind drifting, Will?"

Will was snapped out of his daze by Hannibal's quiet words.

"Sorry. It happens so often I seem to have forgotten how to prevent it."

He chuckled bitterly.

Hannibal shrugged, the most casual thing Will had ever seen him do.

"There's no need to apologize, Will."

And then he felt even worse. There was Hannibal, being so kind to him for what felt like the first time ever, even after everything they'd put each other through, and Will was still holding a grudge.

If Hannibal could move on from their past, then so could he.

"I...I'm ruining this. I don't-"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm not used to this. I don't do this."

Hannibal stilled his motions and pulled away.

"My intention is not to make you uncomfortable, Will. I apologize if I've overstepped my bounds."

"No, it's not you-"

Then he cut himself off, feeling embarrassed. Was anything going to go his way?

"It's okay, Will. I understand."

Will was able to hold his gaze, feeling on fire under Hannibal's stare.

"Good."

It was silent for a moment, then Hannibal reached out, almost hesitantly, to cup Will's cheek, and Will let out a shaky breath. So many emotions ran through him, the overwhelming urge to lean into that touch, to _reciprocate_ that contact, feeling almost suffocating. He could feel his heartbeat speed up as he cautiously covered Hannibal's hand with his own, his skin burning hot, hotter than he thought possible.

Hannibal's eyes grew dark at his touch, and Will could feel his desire, the desire to lean forward and kiss him. But then, unexpectedly, and to Will's both disappointment and relief, he pulled away and went back to cleaning his wounds.

Will smiled for the rest of the night, long after Hannibal went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To address the very large elephant in the room, I know I've been gone for a long time. I definitely want to start updating on a regular basis, but well. Life has been so crazy now that I'm going off to college soon and Mondays-Thursdays I'm working and have classes, and Fridays and Sundays I'm studying and doing chores around the house. Saturdays are probably the days I'm gonna be posting, so keep an eye out for that.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you next time!


	6. Emptiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So inspiration kinda hit me out of nowhere after my professor complimented my psychological interpretation of a Robert Frost poem. Enjoy!  
> PS- I apologize in advance for the ridiculous amount of angst. I'm cruel, I know  
> PPS- WARNING: there is talk of rape PTSD and PTSD imagery. If you are triggered, please contact this hotline :1-800-656-4673  
> Read with caution <3

_Emptiness. That was all that Will felt. He gazed out his window, watching the shadow of a man slowly making his way to his house._

_Will knew who he was, knew what he was there for, and knew this was inevitable._

_There would always be that ghost to haunt him._

_The fire going in his fireplace was slowly dwindling out, and the smell of wood smoke filled his home. His dogs were sleeping, strewn about randomly, curled up in little balls with a kind of peace Will had never know, and never would._

_The man was closer now. So close, he could almost make out his face. It was familiar, just oh so familiar, yet he couldn't place it. He knew this man. He had seen him before all of this had happened. But who was he?_

_Will's head snapped to the door when he heard a knock, and a frantic one at that. He glanced back out the window to see the man still making his way forward. So who was at the door?_

_With quick, unsure movements, Will readied a gun, cocking it, before throwing the door open. Instantly, he lowed his gun in surprised._

_It was Hannibal._

_A plethora of emotions ran through him all at once: relief, confusion, safety._

_"I want to help you, Will."_

_He said earnestly._

_"Please, let me in."_

_They both knew he wasn't just talking about the house._

_Will found himself nodding, feeling like this couldn't possibly be real, as Hannibal lifted his hand to cup his cheek. Will found himself leaning into the touch. And for a moment, the world was still, and everything seemed almost okay again._

_But then, suddenly Hannibal made a noise of surprise and pain, and Will's face creased in confusion and horror as a drop of blood trailed down from Hannibal's mouth. He looked down to see a knife planted firmly in his stomach, blood quickly staining his shirt._

_"Will?"_

_Hannibal collapsed before Will could say or do anything, and Will was then face-to-face with his rapist._

_"No."_

_He choked out, throat closing, eyes stinging fiercely with tears._

_Feeling as if his heart had been ripped out, he raised his gun to the man's head and pulled the trigger._

_Blood blossomed on his forehead, but the man only smiled and began advancing on him, Will retreating backwards with every step he took._

_"You can't get rid of me,"_

_He grinned, his hands stained with blood._

_"I'll always be here. Right here, in your head."_

_"No."_

_Will whimpered again, feeling the walls closing in around him, and the man lunged towards him, grabbing him by the throat, and-_

 

"No!"

Will awoke violently, a cry leaving his lips. His chest heaved as he gulped in air, sweaty and cold, a stone weighting him down in his heart.

Automatically, Will reached for his phone to call Hannibal, but froze, remnants of his nightmare lingering in his head.

He remembered what Hannibal said- that he'd risk his capture just to avenge him.

Will couldn't let Hannibal do that. He wouldn't. 

Setting his phone down resignedly, he let out a shaky sigh, and got out of bed, heading for the bathroom. There was no way in hell he was going back to sleep and it was already 4 a.m. Plus, sweat seemed to have completely soaked through his shirt, and he needed a shower. There was no point in putting it off.

Will let out a sigh as he cranked up the water to hot and gingerly stripped out of his clothes. His head pounded and his body ached, every bruise and cut suddenly feeling ten times as painful than before. And it was because he knew.

He knew that he knew who his attacker was. But it seemed he just couldn't place a name to a blurred face and a deep voice. But, whoever he was, he could still be active in Will's life without him even knowing it.

And that was more terrifying than anything else.

When the water was finally warm, he stepped into the spray. It was supposed to be soothing, comforting. But all he felt was the biting cold from the pit of his stomach.

And he hated himself for it. He hated that, whoever the man was, he had taken part of something that was everything he had left: happiness. And Will knew it would take a long time to get it back- if at all.

Then suddenly he was crying, and he felt something close to rage almost boil in him, before dissipating completely, tears running down his face.

Even in his waking moments, he felt empty.

oOo

After Will found the energy to get out of the shower, he tended to his wounds the best he could, swallowing down more painkillers than recommended to numb the pain he was still embarrassed about. His motions began to feel mechanical, forcing himself through the morning, trying his hardest to both distract himself and keep himself from reverting into himself and giving up on everything.

Nothing had ever been harder.

So he trudged on like that until 5 pm., when his phone rang. At first he tensed, assuming it was Hannibal, but relaxed slightly to see the caller I.D. read  _Beverly._

Will hesitated at first, but forced himself to answer the phone with great apprehension.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Will,"

Beverly's voice greeted him on the other end of the line.

"I wanted to check up on you. The last few days have been absolute hell."

"What happened?"

Will asked, while knowing Beverly wouldn't answer.

"It doesn't matter,"

She dismissed.

"So how are you doing?"

Will chuckled bitterly.

"Beverly, I'm sure you're well aware."

"Do you want me to come over? I can bring over a nutritional meal of microwavable mac 'n' cheese."

"It's tempting, but I don't have much of an appetite lately."

"Alright, but you better at least eat something. You're too skinny."

That spurred a little chuckle out of him.

"You sound like Hannibal."

"Have you seen him lately?"

Will shifted uncomfortably in his spot.

"He was here a few days ago."

"How did it go?"

"I'm...not sure."

He answered honestly.

"Will, I know you're not gonna want to hear this, but I think he might be able to help you. He cares about you. Just give him a chance."

There was a protracted silence before Will managed to take a deep breath and say,

"I don't think- I just..."

He sighed heavily.

"I don't wanna drag him into this mess."

"Will, we both know he willingly walked into it. And he'll be too stubborn to walk out. You're alike in more ways than you know."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he simply replied,

"I better go, Bev."

"Alright, just...don't cut yourself off from the world. It'll only make things worse."

Will thought about that for a moment.

"Okay."

And promptly hung up.

He silenced his phone the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that! I planned on uploading this in the morning, but I had a HUGE project to work on that kept me distracted, so here I am, uploading this at 1 a.m. Whoops. Hopefully I'll be able to stick to a consistent schedule soon.  
> Also, just a quick (very long) side-note: being the psychology major I am (I imagine you're not surprised), I do take on a sort of clinical view of different people's reactions to different types of trauma. PTSD can be a cruel roller coaster of depression, panic, and shame, mixed in with moments of happiness, acceptance, and the longing to move on. So, all in all: this fic will contain many variations of these emotions.  
> Anyway, now that I'm done rambling, I'll see you guys next week!


	7. Bloody Knuckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: talk of rape, PTSD imagery, and semi-graphic rape flashbacks. If you are triggered, please contact this hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> Read with caution <3

After an entire week of Will somehow managing to successfully keep Hannibal out of his life, he, once again, found a way back in. He should've predicted it, honestly. The man didn't give up on anything.

Once Will felt comfortable enough to walk around without feeling substantial amounts of both pain and embarrassment, he decided it was time to go back to work teaching. It wasn't necessarily a big deal, but he worried word had spread and his students would somehow find out what had happened. Luckily, no one said anything.

He had just finished a class, managing not to break down during his presentation, and was packing up when Hannibal walked in the room. All his students had cleared out already _(Thank god),_ so it was just the two of them.

"Will,"

Hannibal greeted, seemingly ignoring Will's flinch upon seeing him. Clearly, he wasn't going to make this easy for Will.

"You haven't been answering my calls. How are you doing?"

_Worse than ever_ _._

"Um. Better, I guess."

Will grabbed his bag and began packing up his papers and materials, desperate to go home and rest.

"You look tired. Have you been sleeping well?"

"No more than usual,"

He lied. Talking about his feelings was the last thing he wanted because he knew when he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. But still, he thought back to what Beverly had said.

_Don't cut yourself off from the world. It'll only make things worse._

But, then again, how much worse could it get?

Every night, he'd awake covered in sweat, trembling in fear from nightmares. Sometimes there were new ones, but there was one that was continually recurring, one that made him fight to keep tears from falling from his eyes, and made him fail to do so.

One in which, no matter what he'd do, he couldn't save himself, therefore unable to protect Hannibal in turn.

His subconscious was right. There was no outrunning his trauma. He shouldn't drag Hannibal down with him. But could he truly push him away? Did he have the _strength_ to?

"Are you positive it's wise to begin working so soon?"

Hannibal's question broke him out of his thoughts.

"Can't put it off forever."

Once everything was organized, Will slung his bag over his shoulder and made to leave with Hannibal walking alongside him.

"Are you busy tonight? Perhaps you would venture to join me for dinner."

"I really don't want to deal with the drive. And I have a lot papers to grade tonight."

A white lie. A desperate one, too. He worried briefly that Hannibal would call him out on it, but instead, Hannibal simply nodded, and said,

"I won't force my company on you if you do not desire it. Would you allow me to bring you something to eat? I've seen your cupboards, and I fear you may need something more nutritional."

Will snorted.

"This may be surprising, Doctor, but my palate is not nearly as  _refined_ as yours."

They had finally reached Will's car, and he felt a sense of relief wash over him, as the end of the day felt finalized.

"So, what do you think?"

Will bit his lip thoughtfully. He hadn't been eating much, as his appetite had lessened, and it would be good to eat something that didn't heat up in the microwave.

"...Nothing too fancy."

Hannibal smiled at that and nodded gracefully.

"Of course. I should be there around six o'clock."

"Thanks."

He mumbled, finding himself almost looking forward to it.

Perhaps his self-control wasn't as strong as he thought it to be.

With a stilted farewell from Will, he got in his car and started the drive back to his house. He forced himself not to look back.

oOo

As soon as Will got home, he went straight to his bed to lie down. All his conflicting thoughts and emotions seemed to drain him of his energy and it had been a very long day.

He stretched out in bed, deciding he could rest his eyes until Hannibal came.

He wasn't going to sleep, not with all the nightmares that'd been plaguing him every night. Wasn't going to, wasn't going, wasn't...

_The night air was chilly and bit at Will's skin. Bruises were already were forming on his hips, where the man's fingers were digging into his flesh. He was struggling to not pass out, to put a stop to it, but his bones were weary and weak, his head fogged in delirium and shrouded with pain. His skin felt taut and as if it would rip apart if any more strain was inflicted upon his body. He could feel the man's breath ghosting over his face as his breathing grew more and more jagged with every thrust of his hips. The man was staring intently at him, hazel eyes meeting blue challengingly._

Will woke up hours later covered in a chilled sweat, his heart beating rapidly, painfully in his chest, a tearful wail caught in his throat. Looking around the room frantically, the present tense caught up with him, and he felt himself relax, though only marginally so.

Another memory, another puzzle piece falls into place.

Another ache begins in his heart.

Choking on his emotions, Will dragged himself out of bed, ignoring the dull pain throughout his body. He needed a distraction, and a healthy one at that.

Not sure what else to do, Will went into the bathroom and stripped of his sweaty clothes, turning the water up as far as it would go so it'd be scolding hot, desperate to rid himself of the memory. He was shaking with absolute anger and anguish, a intense flare of emotion coursing through him, replacing the numbness he had previously had. He bit down hard on his tongue, blinking back hot tears.

_Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down._

He chanted this in his head desperately, trying to control his emotions, and struggling greatly. Then, giving up and not knowing how to hold in the pulsing rage within him, he pulled his fist back and punched the drywall, over and over, tears blurring his vison and burning his eyes, the pain of his abused knuckles feeling distant and almost unreal.

When Will finally stopped, his hand was swollen, his knuckles bloody, bruised, and throbbing. Upon inspecting the wall, he found it dented, the pain chipped and blood-spattered. 

Taking deep breaths, Will felt his anger dim and, as if nothing had happened, he stepped in the shower and gently cleaned his wounds.

oOo

The sound of a knock at the door jolted Will out of his trance. After getting out of the shower, he had disinfected and dressed his wounds- including his knuckles- and put his sweat-soaked bedsheets in the washing machine.

Oh. Hannibal. He'd nearly forgotten.

Tiredly and a little hesitantly, Will crossed the room to let Hannibal in, taking a steadying breath.

"Good evening, Will,"

He greeted before his brow instantly furrowed, his eyes raking over Will's frail figure, his gaze landing on his gauze-wrapped knuckles.

"What happened?"

Will glanced down to his bandaged hand and seemed surprised for a moment, as if he wasn't aware it was there at first.

"Oh, that. Um."

Awkwardly, Will opened the door wider to let Hannibal in, and he sighed.

"My frustration got a tad out of hand. I decided to take it out on the bathroom drywall."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at him as he went to set down the food he'd brought on the kitchen counter.

"I could suggest a number of coping mechanisms for those suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that do not include violence, if you are interested."

Will snorted and shook his head minutely.

"No offense, Doctor, but I doubt anything will help at this point."

Hannibal paused momentarily, seemingly mulling something over as he began setting down the meal he made on Will's table.

"Would I be out of line to inquire as to why you felt the need to attack your wall?"

"...I remembered something again."

Instantly, Hannibal froze and turned to look at him.

"What did you remember?"

He sounded almost desperate. Will thought back to what he had said, only two weeks ago.

_You are my friend, Will. The authorities discovering I was the one who killed this man is not of import._

Every fiber in his body was telling him to not say anything but, before he could censor himself, the words were tumbling out of his mouth,

"He has hazel eyes and I...I recognized him. I don't know who he is, but I've seen him before. I know him, but I just don't  _know_ him."

Hannibal's pupils widened at the confession, though he knew he shouldn't be surprised. Many rapes are committed by someone the victim knows.

"You believe there's a possibility he's still active in your life."

It was a statement, not a question.

"Do you think you could recognize him upon seeing him?"

"I'm not sure."

Will admitted uncomfortably.

"I may never see him again, anyway. If he's smart, he will purposefully avoid me. This...wasn't about hurting me. It meant nothing. It never does."

"You believe he's done this before."

He nodded embarrassedly, suddenly realizing he had said too much. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he said,

"You, uh, should probably be heading back. I don't want to keep you."

"Are you sure, Will?"

There was an undercurrent of worry and near desperation in his voice and Will hated it.

"Yeah, I am."

Clearly reluctantly, Hannibal finished unpacking the food he had brought for Will and gathered his cooler with a sigh.

"Okay, but do not hesitate to call me if you need anything- anything at all, Will. It doesn't matter what time of night. I promise, I'll answer."

Will knew, though, that there was more to his claim. So much more.

"Thanks."

Hannibal simply smiled and Will walked him to the door, and stood there on his porch long after Hannibal had driven away, staring at nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that longer chapter! I wanted to post sooner, but this past week has been absolutely CRAZY BUSY for me. I'm glad I managed to get at least some time in to write this, even though I'm posting this at one a.m. again. Whoops. But, alas, I will press onward.  
> Comments are always appreciated :) and I'll see you guys next Saturday! (or early Sunday morning. Who knows at this point?)


	8. One Way Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mildly-graphic rape imagery, PTSD imagery, and rape flashbacks. If you are triggered, please contact this hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> WARNING #2: moderately-graphic talk of suicidal thoughts. If you are feeling suicidal, please contact this hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> be safe my lovely readers <3

Will knew more memories were to come, and he knew he couldn’t mope forever.

He had to try, he had to _want_ to try. So he attempted to force himself to.

It had been a restless night after Hannibal had left, and Will, in the early morning, had managed to gather his wits and decide the best way to put his life back to normal was to put all the pieces together of why it fell apart in the first place. So, even though it hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced before his attack, and his hands shook the whole time, he began recording every flashback, every memory that had come back to him, to try to a paint a clearer picture of his attacker.

He started with what he knew: hazel eyes, probably in his 20s or 30s, strong, a deeper voice. From what he could put together, Will figured he must be on the police force, as he wasn’t sure how else he would know the man. He wasn’t a first-time offender.

Will then thought back to the nightmare he had a few nights ago with his attacker killing Hannibal, and he figured he knew where he lived; he had probably found out after taking his wallet. It was also possible he didn’t target Will for a specific reason. His attacker could’ve just seen him one day at work and randomly chose him as his next victim. Will might not mean anything to the man.

Will searched his mind for more memories, for more flashbacks to tell him more, but, for whatever reason, his brain rebelled and refused to do so, as if not showing him would protect him because he wouldn’t be able to handle the truth.

That was an nerve-wrecking thought. A scary one.

And one that may very well be valid.

oOo

When nighttime came, after Will got home from teaching after he finished writing out everything he knew about his attacker, he felt slight apprehension going to sleep. He needed his memories, but the pain worsened with everything he remembered. Nevertheless, he climbed into bed, turning out his lights, and waited for the nightmares to come.

And come they did.

_The man’s sweat was dripping onto Will, his forehead nearly touching Will’s, almost if he was contemplating kissing him. But he pulled back eventually, as if he didn't want it to be too intimate. His brown hair was long and straight, falling around his face, his eyes peeking through. His moans were reverberating throughout the alley, but the music from the building behind them was playing too loud for anyone to hear, the only sound heard over the rumble of passing cars. Will tried to cry out, but his throat was dry and his voice squeaky. It was useless._

When Will awoke, only a few hours had passed. He was covered in cold sweat, his heart rapidly beating. Not wanting to forget, Will rushed to where he began recording his memories and added that the man had light brown hair. It was a small detail, but a detail nonetheless.

After Will had calmed down, he weighed out if he should try to fall back asleep or just give up and stay awake. And, feeling as if adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, he decided to submit to his frantic mind and make some coffee.

The drink was bitter on his tongue as he absentmindedly sipped at it, the cogs of his brain turning, trying to gain more clues from the information he’d gathered so far. But his head hurt, it hurt oh so bad, and he was torn between trying to sort things out more or letting it go for the night. He decided to just rest for a while until he had to go to work. He needed a break from all this madness and trauma.

With a deep sigh, Will put his coffee cup in the sink and went to sit on his bed, some of the dogs that were roused from their sleep walking over to him and sitting by the edge of the bed.

“What am I doing?”

He muttered to no one in particular as he tried to get settled and let his mind go blank.

But, of course, things weren’t that easy. They never were.

As he stopped paying attention to the world around him, he got lost in his thoughts, flashbacks he’d already seen running through his head again, almost as if to taunt him by withholding other important information. Not that he particularly wanted to know.

Will sighed, resting his head in his hands, feeling tears sting at his eyes. His emotions were all over the place: first he’d be at peace, then unbelievably angry, then startlingly sad, then completely numb. And between all those feelings, he was rarely in between extremes. And he was tired. Just oh so tired.

He didn’t realize he was crying until salty, hot tears reached his lips and stained his tongue. And then he didn’t know what to do, what to think, how to handle things. It seemed no matter what he did, he’d never be forever happy or peaceful. The pain would always be there, looming in the bottom of his heart, ready to haunt him for the rest of his life, until the very day he died.

Suddenly that day wasn’t so scary. It was the end of what he’d be going through. What was scary about that?

Then a thought hit Will, a whispered suggestion in the back of his mind. A thought he contemplated, a thought he realized could be the answer to his problems. The answer to his pain.

Again, Will flashed back to one of his nightmares, his words ringing in his ears,

_You can’t get rid of me. I’ll always be here. Right here, in your head._

His subconscious was right. And he didn’t need a dream to tell him that.

His eyes glazed over as he entertained the idea, contemplating how he would do it, if he did. Would he bring a blade to his wrists, cut into his flesh, and bleed out? Would he swallow pills, like he did so many times after visiting crime scenes? Would he tie a noose around his neck and hang himself? Or perhaps a mixture of the three, just to be sure? It wouldn’t surprise him if he failed. The world wouldn’t let him off that easy. Not him.

oOo

When the sun came up, hours and hours later, Will realized how long he had zoned out after he decided he didn’t want to die. Not today, at least.

With a sigh, he forced himself into the shower, then headed to work. At least one thing in his life remained normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that! Look at me, posting at 2am on Sunday. I'm not even surprised anymore. It seems to have become a habit. Oh well.  
> Anyway, I'll see you guys next weekend!  
> PS- It hadn't occurred to me before to put in rape trauma hotline numbers (just in case) so I'll begin adding hotline numbers for anything in these chapters that can be triggering, especially now that we're getting into pretty dark stuff (well, darker, actually). I'm also going to go back and add these hotline numbers to my previous chapters as necessary, as well.  
> Take care of yourselves, darlings <3


	9. Pasta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this happy chapter since I’ve been so cruel to y’all :)

When the weekend came, Will was determined to stay home and ignore everyone. However, the exact opposite happened.

He awoke on Saturday morning to the sound of a knock on his door. He groaned as he rolled out of bed, catching the sight of his clock telling him it was eight a.m. He trudged to the door and felt instant surprise and confusion upon opening it.

It was Beverly.

“Um.”

She smiled and laughed at his speechlessness.

“Did you miss me?”

He frowned in shock.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Sorry, I just…”

He sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone. But, uh, come in.”

Some of the dogs stirred and trotted over to them, smelling her with apprehension.

“So,”

She began and Will prepared for a speech.

“When’s the last time you talked to someone? And I don’t mean a five-minute conversation on the phone.”

There was a teasing lilt to her voice and Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I talked with someone a few days ago. Believe it or not, I’m not as antisocial as you think. I’m usually forced to interact with people.”

He gave her a pointed look but she ignored it.

“Have you seen Hannibal recently?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Will sighed wearily. Of course Beverly wouldn’t back down from a challenge.

“I saw him earlier this week. He insisted on bringing me dinner.”

“I don’t think that’s why he came, Will.”

Her voice was gentler now. Will flushed, remembering their intimate moment those few weeks ago, when Hannibal had been cleaning his wounds.

“He wants to help you. Anyone can see it except you.”

“You don’t…you don’t understand, Bev. He’s- he’s different than you think he is.”

“It takes one to know one.”

Innocent enough, but Will knew a deeper, unintentional meaning behind those words that made him shudder.

“I suppose.”

“Look, let’s just sit down and eat. I’m starving.”

“I don’t really have much food-wise.”

“Don’t worry about it,”

She dismissed with a wave of her hand.

“I’m not hard to satisfy.”

Will snorted, a bit uncomfortable, until Beverly paused and said,

“Let’s pretend I didn’t just say that. So,”

She sat down at the table and motioned Will over.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

oOo

The further into breakfast they got, the more Beverly decided to bug Will and pry into his life. Not that he was surprised, though. Prying was one of her most prominent personality traits.

“So how have you two been getting along lately?”

“Is there a specific reason why you keep bringing him up?”

Will asked irritably, after Beverly posed yet another question about Hannibal.

“Obviously. He worries about you all the time. It’s endearing and annoying at the same time. But in a good way.”

She added. Will froze, uncomfortable once again.

“We get along fine.”

Beverly raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Will got the distinct impression she was about to start a conversation he really didn’t want to have.

Not with everything that had happened. Not with the dark thoughts he’d entertained a few nights before. The dark thoughts he had managed to momentarily escape.

But just momentarily. He figured they’d come back eventually.

“ _Just_ fine?”

“How else would we get along?”

She paused and pursed her lips, seeming to mull over the potential consequences of asking an invasive question.

“Look, I’m no relationship expert, but—”

“Bev, I know where you’re going with this,”

Will interrupted.

“Do you really think with everything going on that that’s what’s been on my mind?”

“…I think that’s what’s been on _his_ mind.”

“He doesn’t- he’s not—”

He sighed.

“He’s my friend. That’s it.”

“I think he wants to be more.”

“Why?”

Will snapped.

“Because he wants to help me?”

Will knew he was being evasive and he knew, deep down, that Beverly was probably right, but he didn’t want to have to acknowledge how he felt about it.

How he wanted him, too, oh so desperately.

“ _Because_ I’ve seen the way he looks at you…”

She paused.

“…And the way you look at him.”

“Bev—”

“All I’m saying, Will,”

She said, ignoring his protests,

“Is that, if he makes you happy, let yourself make him happy, too. Be happy with _each other_. And with everything that’s happened…you deserve it. Both of you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything at all.

oOo

It was around noon when the idea came to him.

After breakfast, they have scoured Will’s cupboards for something to eat for lunch.

“Hey, I was thinking…how about I make lunch?”

Beverly turned away from scanning his pantry and her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I didn’t know you were a cook.”

“I lean heavily on the mediocre side, but I _do_ like to make real food every once in a while.”

She laughed at that and nodded.

“Alright. What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing I can make with what I have now. You in the mood to go shopping?”

She grinned.

“Aren’t I always?”

oOo

When Beverly and Will had picked up all the ingredients they needed, it was two p.m.

“So you gonna tell me what you plan to make with all of this?”

Beverly asked exasperatedly as they unpacked the large amount of food they’d bought.

“Pasta,” Will answered with the hint of a smile on his face.

“I made it a lot as a kid. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the only nutritional thing I used to eat on a consistent basis.”

“Sounds good.”

“Just a fair warning, though, I haven’t made this in a while, so I’m not sure how it’ll turn out.”

“Hey,”

Beverly replied.

“As long as nothing catches on fire, it’s a win in my book.”

Will laughed.

“Noted.”

oOo

While the pasta was boiling, Will chopped up some broccoli and Beverly cut garlic cloves into thin strips. They danced around each other in his small kitchen, preparing the other ingredients, shredding carrots, mincing mint leaves, crumbling goat cheese. And, soon enough, everything was ready and they sat down at the table to eat.

It was a little overdone and nowhere near perfect, but it was good considering he hadn’t made it in years.

“Wow. I’m impressed,”

Beverly said around a mouthful of pasta.

“This is definitely better than I can cook.”

Will snorted.

“You must be an awful cook.”

“That’s fair, but I actually do like this. Scout’s honor.”

Will rolled his eyes, but good-naturedly.

“It’s not often I’m in the mood to cook.”

“I think Hannibal’s rubbing off on you.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“ _Will_.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Sorry, that’s my defensiveness coming out. It’s automatic at this point.”

“Even when you’re complimented?”

“Yes. I’m not complimented much, so it throws me off guard.”

Beverly scoffed.

“Oh, please. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but does anyone come to mind when you think of me being complimented? That’s what I thought.”

“I _just_ complimented you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Besides you."

She paused and tried to suppress a smile. Will caught on and his face reddened.

“Shut up.”

She only laughed at that.

“Speaking of Hannibal, why don’t you invite him over? You can woo him with your pasta.”

“I think you’re confusing woo with disgust.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Whatever you say. I don’t feel like embarrassing myself.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do anything wrong in his eyes.”

Deep down, Will knew she was right.

oOo

Beverly ended up leaving a little after five p.m., giving Will way too much time to think about what she’d said.

After a few minutes of debating and pacing his house nervously, Will finally caved and picked up his phone to call Hannibal.

He surprised himself at how his hands didn’t shake like before. Maybe this was something he wouldn’t regret.

Hannibal picked up almost immediately, something that made Will sigh in relief.

“Hello, Will.”

“Hey. Are you busy tonight?”

“I am not.”

“Do you wanna come over? I could cook for you. Or, at least, attempt to.”

“That sounds wonderful."

Will could practically hear the smile in his voice, and he couldn’t help but smile in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that (EXTREMELY) long chapter! I decided to split this into two parts since, if I didn't, it would go on for FOREVER. And I apologize for my teasing cliffhanger. I'm mean, I know. I might be able to upload the second part tonight or tomorrow. I'll see what I can do.  
> Comments fuel my inspiration <3  
> Anyway, I'll see you next weekend!


	10. A Work of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so fluffy, you may have to see your dentist afterwards XD

While Hannibal was on his way to his house, Will began working on dinner, since it would be a painstakingly long process.

Not that he minded, though; he’d have Hannibal there for the majority of it.

He had just finished chopping up the parsley leaves when the sound of a knock at the door reached his ears.

Will grinned to himself and walked over to let Hannibal in.

“Good evening, Will,”

Hannibal greeted smoothly.

“Hey. I may need your help with some of this. It’s uh, it’s been a while since I’ve made it.”

“And what exactly are you making?”

“Gumbo,”

Will responded, the hint of a smile on his face as he led Hannibal to his kitchen where multiple ingredients were strewn about the counters.

“It was my mom’s recipe. I don’t make it often but,”

He shrugged.

“I guess I never could get rid of the Louisiana in me.”

“It would be a shame if you did.”

Will frowned.

“Why?”

“Your origins make you who you are. You should never feel ashamed of them, or who they’ve molded you into.”

Will felt himself blush but couldn’t stop the smile that overtook his face.

“I suppose. So,”

He took a deep breath,

“I already started cooking the chicken and shrimp, and cut up the parsley. I could use some help with the onion, celery, bouillon cubes, and garlic.”

“Of course.”

They went to work and fell into an easy synchronization. Without so much as a word between them, they got everything ready, and soon were stirring the mixture together. Finally, when everything was done, they left the concoction to simmer for the next hour. Will was leaning up against the counter next to the stove and Hannibal covered the gumbo.

“I believe this is coming together quite nicely.”

Will raised an eyebrow.

“I never took you as someone who would like something so simple.”

“Nonsense. Cooking is an art, and I appreciate all forms of it.”

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Will blushed.

“I wouldn’t call my cooking an art form. Compared to what you make, my gumbo may as well be a child’s drawing.”

“You mustn’t deprecate yourself, Will.”

He scolded gently, and a furrow formed in his brow.

“It never ceases to amaze me how you’re oblivious to how beautiful you truly are.”

Will’s breath came out in a shaky rush, captivated by Hannibal’s gaze. His heart raced as he tried to tell himself that this was wrong, that Hannibal deserved more than him, more than his used body, more than the ugly marks littering his very being.

But maybe he wasn’t like that. Maybe he wasn’t dirty like he’d been telling himself all this time. Maybe, just maybe, the beauty Hannibal saw in him was actually there.

With Hannibal’s presence by his side and the smile gracing his features radiating adoration, Will allowed a hint of a smile grace his features in return. He couldn’t let his self-worth deteriorate because of what had happened to him. He wouldn’t.

“…I’ve never had anyone to tell me otherwise.”

Will finally said. Hannibal raised his hand to cup his cheek like he had so many times before and shifted towards him ever so slightly, letting their arms brush.

“Then you’ve never had someone who appreciated you for who you are. It baffles me.”

Will chuckled softly and relaxed into his gentle touch.

“Good thing I’ve got you, then.”

He was practically whispering at this point, trying to calm his racing heart that only pounded faster the closer Hannibal got.

“Indeed.”

Will wouldn’t have caught the word if he hadn’t been already looking at Hannibal’s lips. Then he felt a longing inside him, one he’d tried so hard to suppress; the longing to finally lean forward and kiss him, to let himself be happy with the person he desired oh so badly. In his company he didn’t feel like he had since he was attacked. All those feelings were overpowered by the pure love he felt when Hannibal looked in his eyes.

And when Hannibal leaned toward him, Will automatically closed his eyes. However, moments later, he felt a kiss being placed gently on his head, and he smiled. Ever the gentleman.

"This ordeal has not tainted your beauty,”

Hannibal murmured into his curls.

“You are stronger than you have ever been, and that in itself is awe-worthy. Never think you are lesser because of this.”

When Hannibal finally pulled away, Will couldn’t help but mirror Hannibal’s gentle smile. His heart had finally slowed to a normal pace and he felt contentment settle in his chest. With appreciation and love lacing his voice, he said,

“I won’t.”

oOo

By the time the gumbo was done simmering, they had gone through three glasses of a bottle of wine Will had lying around his house. It was by no means up to Hannibal's typical standards, but he appreciated the sentiment.

"This definitely turned out a lot better than I thought,"

Will commented as he took his first bite. It brought back hazy memories of his childhood and he couldn't help but smile.

"You mustn't be so modest, Will. It's wonderful."

"If you say so."

When they were done eating, they moved to the living room, where Will felt embarrassed that his furniture was mostly covered in dog hair, but, surprisingly, Hannibal didn't seem to mind.

Hours passed of idle talk and comfortable companionship and, soon enough, it was nearing midnight.

"Shit,"

Will said as he glanced at the clock.

"Sorry, I didn't realize how late it was."

He rubbed the back of his neck embarrassedly.

"No matter,"

Hannibal replied smoothly.

"I will always enjoy your company, Will. The drive back is no bother."

An idea struck Will then and he contemplated the consequences of what he wanted. After a moment, he finally said,

"You could uh, you could stay here tonight. Probably shouldn't drive after drinking so much."

Hannibal seemed to consider the suggestion before smiling slightly.

"Perhaps you are right. I am typically not as careless with my alcohol intake when I am away from home. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Will."

"Don't be,"

Will replied before he could censor himself.

He blushed heavily and his bravery wavered under Hannibal's intense stare.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and stuttered,

"I can- I-I'll go get some spare blankets for you."

Hannibal nodded graciously, allowing Will the space he clearly needed.

On the way to his linen closet, he managed to calm himself down, despite the fact his vison was a bit hazy from the wine.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

He muttered to himself before taking in a deep breath and heading back with an armful of blankets and a few pillows. They were nothing fancy and a few years old, but it was the best he had.

By the time he got back to the living room, Hannibal had began cleaning up the kitchen. Will chuckled.

"I thought guests weren't supposed to clean up."

He teased, his earlier nervous completely gone.

Something, he realized, Hannibal was very good at.

"It's not a bother,"

Hannibal replied.

"Although I would appreciate some help."

He teased. Will laughed and set the pillows and blankets on the couch to make up later.

As they cleaned up the kitchen together- which was an absolute disaster with various ingredients and appliances strewn about- Will realized he was a bit more drunk than he had previously realized. However, not surprisingly, Hannibal was much more composed than he was.

After everything was back in order, they moved back into the living room and, after one last glass of wine, they began getting ready for bed.

Settled into bed with a feeling of safety and contentment, Will said lightly,

"Good night, Hannibal."

He turned the lights off and fell asleep, a soft smile never leaving his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, two chapters i one weekend! Yay!  
> On another note, I used this to procrastinate applying for the 50+ scholarships I want for the upcoming semester. I still have 30 more essays to write and I honestly don't wanna deal. I'm also going to apply for the honors program of the college I'm going to. Wish me luck!  
> Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go suffer through my responsibilities.  
> I'll see you next weekend!


	11. When All This Has Passed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mild rape flashbacks in this chapter and references of PTSD. If you are triggered, please contact this hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> Stay safe my lovely readers and enjoy this emotional chapter <3

_All he felt was agony. His head pounded , body covered in bruises, skin ripped, eyes impossibly heavy with exhaustion and shock. Just pure agony.  
_

_Calloused hands moved from his hips to pin his wrists to the ground as he struggled beneath the man. Tears brimmed his eyes because of the stinging pain. Distantly, through the haze of fog surrounding his brain, he wondered if he should stop fighting. Stop trying._

_Everything hurt and there wasn't anything he do but lay there and take it. And take it he did. The man didn't stop for what felt like hours._

Will shot up in his bed, covered in a sheen of cold sweat, breaths coming out in heavy pants.

"Will?"

Hannibal's sleepy voice broke the silence and Will suddenly remembered the events of the previous night.

"Are you alright?"

He tried to respond, but his voice caught in his throat, and everything felt too real, too much.

Will could make out the vague shape of Hannibal walking towards him and the moonlight streaming in through the window illuminated him, highlighting the concern on his face.

"Did you dream about your attack?"

Will could only nod stiffly as Hannibal cautiously sat beside him, approaching him like Will would approach a stray dog.

He brought his knees to his chest, curling in on himself for a sense of protection. The gesture only worried Hannibal more.

"Did you remember something?"

"I just-"

His voice cracked in emotion.

"I remember the pain of it, the... _agony."_

Will took in a shaky and continued on,

"I remember wanting to give up, wanting to stop trying to fight him. I was tired, just so tired..."

He felt almost suffocated by the look on Hannibal's face, one that screamed of rage and sorrow and devotion.

He'd never had someone who loved him so much.

oOo

Both Hannibal and Will knew that Will wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so Hannibal brewed some coffee, the taste lost on their tongues as emotions ran high.

"Will, perhaps..."

Hannibal took a deep breath, unsure how to word it without scaring or angering him. They had moved to the couch and lit a fire, the night quiet as they each got lost in their own thoughts.

"...Perhaps it would be beneficial to seek out a therapist. Someone who can help you process what has happened to you and cope in a healthy manner."

Will scoffed softly.

"Therapy has never really done anything for me, as I'm sure you're well aware."

"Will, please,"

Will sighed and dragged a hand down his face tiredly, remembering how those few weeks ago he'd told himself he'd meet Hannibal halfway and forget their past.

It was the only way he could move on from this.

"I think the only person that could help me already is,"

Their gazes met and Hannibal couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.

"Oh, Will,"

It was just a quiet sigh as it fell from his lips and when Will reached out to him, Hannibal pulled him close.

And when Hannibal enclosed him gently in his arms, Will squeezed his eyes shut, half expecting his body to tense and panic. But just like in the kitchen the night before, it didn’t.

He only melted into the touch and wrapped his arms around Hannibal in return, burying his face in his shirt, hiding his teary eyes.

And, in that one moment, he felt truly, completely, and unconditionally loved.

When Will finally pulled away, it was only slightly, and he found himself looking into Hannibal’s eyes, their faces oh so close, foreheads resting against each other. Will felt like his stomach had dropped out from under him, his heart beating hard and fast.

Warmth blooming in his chest, Will tilted his head slightly, nuzzling Hannibal’s face, their lips gravitating towards each other, but never meeting.

Will could feel Hannibal’s racing pulse pressed up against him as he were, and he let his eyes flutter shut, leaving the decision to Hannibal to kiss him or not, to close that last inch of distance between.

Will felt Hannibal’s hand run through his hair gently, his breath ghosting over his face, lips barely brushing together, not quite a kiss.

Will tightened his hold on Hannibal in response to the contact, and a small sigh escaped his lips.

When Hannibal finally pulled away, Will didn’t feel disappointed that he didn’t kiss him like he thought he would. No, what Hannibal was trying to convey he heard loud and clear.

_One day I will, when all this has passed, and we can be together properly._

It was a beautiful, kind sentiment, and, when Hannibal searched his gaze for a reaction, he couldn’t help but smile at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that (very short) chapter! Tbh, I used this to distract myself from the impending fear of getting a rejection letter in a few weeks from my college's honors program since I just submitted my application. I AM NOT READY FOR ALL THESE EMOTIONS AHHH  
> *ahem* I mean here's to hoping that I get in!  
> Anyway, hopefully y'all are having a great weekend and I'll see you next Saturday!


	12. Fool Me Once, Shame on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mild references to rape and PTSD. If you feel triggered at any point, please contact this confidential and free hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> Be safe my darlings <3

When Monday came, Will was tempted to call in sick for work and stay in bed. After Hannibal had left the day before, his mood seemed to go downhill as he was left alone with his thoughts.

He’d had worse days but, then again, he’d most definitely had better ones. But perhaps that wasn’t a good thing to focus on at the moment.

With a sigh, he gathered his stuff together and headed out the door, having procrastinated leaving for at least 20 minutes.

He could already tell it was going to be a long day.

oOo

All throughout his lecture that day, Will’s mind would wander, and his sentences would trail off until he jolted back to reality and awkwardly continued on.

He knew his students were confused, but reassured himself that it was nothing more than his imagination messing with him.

_I’ll always be here. Right here, in your head._

Will shook his head, as if to shake off the remnants of the nightmare he had all those weeks ago.

Why couldn’t he get those words out of his head?

_You can’t get rid of me._

That wasn’t right. Hannibal was there, and he had said he’d help him. Will just had to let him.

_Please, let me in._

_Let me in._

_Let me._

_Let…_

“Mr. Graham?”

Will was snapped out of his daze by the cautious call of one of his students, realizing everyone was staring at him bemusedly.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and picked up where he left off, embarrassed. How long had he been standing there in silence?

Too long, he realized. Much too long.

oOo

When Will was finally done with work and on the way back to his house, things got worse.

The thoughts that he’d been able to push out of his head were back, stronger than before, taunting him.

He was utterly exhausted, worn out from the sadness weighing him down like a stone in his chest, but he knew all too well that nightmares would come if he went to sleep. Before, he wanted them, so he could put the story together. But now he was just tired of it.

Tired of everything.

oOo

When Will finally pulled up to his house, he expected to feel a sense of relief. Instead, he felt instant dread grip his heart.

His front door was open. But not just open: it was barely hanging onto its hinges.

Someone had broken in.

Every particle of Will was screaming to call 911 and _get the fuck out of there._ But he stayed frozen in his spot, his breathing labored and his eyes wide and unblinking.

 _I don’t have to do this,_ Will thought. _It’s not my job._

Oh, but it was.

Because this all boiled down to him. The man who raped him wasn’t taunting the police, not bragging to them about how he hadn’t been caught yet. This was all directed at him. At first, Will had come to the conclusion that this couldn’t possibly be personal. He’d attacked other people.

But his mind had been clouded. He couldn’t think straight. Because even if it wasn’t personal, this was a clearly orchestrated break-in. Not only had the man raped before, but he had done this before, as well. He could be addicted to the power.

Finally, Will forced himself to get out of the car and calmly walk up the porch. The latch and knob on the door were broken and seemed to have been hacked at by something most likely akin to an axe.

He didn’t know what to expect when he walked in. Maybe shattered glass, maybe messages scrawled on the wall in blood. Maybe half of his possessions would be gone.

What he found, however, was the exact opposite.

Aside from the broken door, nothing seemed out of place whatsoever. His bed was still part-way made, his kitchen was untouched, even the dog beds scattered around were in their original position. No drawers were pulled open, no weapons were gone. It was as if someone had broken down the door then simply walked away.

In fact, the only thing that gave away that the man had come in at all was the fact that all his dogs were out of sight. At first, he felt a stab of panic, and practically ran back outside, calling for them belatedly. Far away, in the distance, he saw them running around in the field. At least they were safe.

Not knowing what else to do and still in shock, Will walked back inside and sat at the edge of his bed and tried to calm his racing heart.

He should report this. This was serious. But it just felt wrong.

This was for him, and him only.

Then, suddenly, something caught his eye from the other side of the room. Cautiously, he walked over to his table to find a single item placed on the middle of the counter.

It was his wallet.

He choked back what felt like an impending scream and stumbled back in horror. Not because of his wallet, but because of a small piece of paper set atop of it with a two-word message:

_Miss me?_

Will froze in his place, hands clenched into fists at his side, his breathing slowing down to an abnormal rate. Everything was still.

But then it wasn’t.

With no time to react or defend himself, Will was hit over the head with a bat by a tall, silent figure that’d been crouching down in hiding by the busted door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got into the honors college???? HELL YEAH  
> *ahem* I'm glad to be back. I'm sure you guys missed me teasing you with cliffhangers. I'm cruel, I know.  
> Anyway, I should be back on a normal schedule now that midterms are officially over. So I'll see you guys next weekend!


	13. Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART TWOISH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't wanna spoil anything for this chapter, but there is potentially triggering content in here, so I will leave my usual resources here for you just to be safe: 1-800-656-4673  
> Be safe my lovelies and enjoy this chapter <3

_Smoke. Smoke was everywhere. In the air, in Will's lungs, in his head. Gray, billowing smoke that was suffocating him, fogging his vison. He stuck out his hands blindly, feeling his way through…well, he wasn’t sure. Where was he? The path he was on seemed never-ending._

_A never-ending journey for a never-ending mind._

_And Will knew he wasn’t alone in this maze. There was always someone right behind, breathing down his neck, just out of arm’s reach. The ghost of a caress on his skin. The echo of a moan._

_“You can’t outrun me,”_

_A voice called, from seemingly everywhere at once._

_“Not when there’s nowhere to run.”_

_That was true, that was_ so _true. But there had to be a solution. He couldn’t possibly be destined to suffer this unyielding pain for the rest of his life, right?_

_No, he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t._

_Will finally broke into a run, trusting his instincts, headed toward some unknown destination._

_But the smoke was getting thicker and darker and he couldn’t breathe, he just couldn’t breathe-_

Will woke from his stupor with a gasp, dazed and confused. His drowsy brain could barely register the rope scratching at his skin, the tears in his clothes, the ache in his bones. His head pounded and he groaned aloud, disoriented and in pain.

He only remembered what had happened when he felt the gentlest of caresses on his throat. And that’s when the panic set in.

Whoever the man was, he was smart enough to stand behind Will when waking him, and had tied him to a chair. His mouth, surprisingly, wasn’t taped shut, though he supposed that would be useless. No one would hear him if he screamed- not out here.

He didn’t want to think about that too hard. What he needed to do was find a way to get the hell away and run until he found help.

Or maybe…

No, there was no time to play hero. Handling a break in is one thing. Fighting off a rapist is another.

Will flexed against the rope discreetly, testing its durability. It was strong. The only thing moving did was cause the rope to rub against his flesh. It burned like hell.

Then it hit Will that the man hadn’t said a word to him yet. He slowly attempted to crane his neck to the side to try to see him, but the hand on his throat held him in place, turning from barely a touch to a strong grip. He felt the air leaving his lungs and he couldn’t breathe, _he couldn’t breathe,_ and the image of billowing smoke crossed his mind, suffocating him, and the man’s grip wasn’t easing.

Distantly, Will wondered if this is how he’d die: tied to a chair, bruised and bloodied, trachea crushed beyond repair. He wondered what his friends would think.

What Hannibal would think.

And then, as if it was no big deal, the hand suddenly released its hold and Will gulped in air, chest burning and lungs aching from the sudden invasion.

Will felt his heart begin to beat again, nice and strong, as relief flooded over him. He wasn’t scared of death. That didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want it yet.

Maybe he’d make it. Maybe, just maybe he had a chance. _I could live through this,_ Will thought feebly. _He could just be here to taunt me. Maybe he’s not here for_ that.

But, even as he thought this, Will was no fool. No matter how he tried to reassure himself, he knew in the very back of his head, how these things worked; he knew what was on the man’s mind, and he knew what was going to happen to him. Again.

In the end, he decided he didn’t want to see the man’s face. He didn’t want to hear his voice. He just wanted to get this over with, whether the man ended up killing him or not. Death was better than what lay ahead of him, even if he didn’t want it.

He knew how rapists functioned and he knew that too much was never enough.

And suddenly Will was very lonely and he couldn’t help but regret not trying as hard as he could, for not allowing himself to fully let his friends help him- whether it was Beverly or Hannibal or even Alana.

He had the best support system possible and he didn’t even know it. And now it was too late.

oOo

Will had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice right away that the man had disappeared. For a fleeting moment, he lit up with hope.

Then he heard footsteps and felt a lump grow in his throat.

Of course he wouldn’t just leave. He hadn’t done what he came here to do yet.

And suddenly there was sharp, cool pressure running along his collarbones. He took in a sharp breath as he realized it was a knife that the man must have retrieved from his kitchen.

But he didn’t cut Will. He had a feeling of what that knife was really for.

His suspicions were confirmed when the man trailed the knife down his chest and cut off the first button on his shirt. Will could hear the man’s breathing and feel hot puffs of air against his neck, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to stay calm.

A part of Will wished he’d drug him first, like last time. It’d be easier that way.

But things were never easy for him, were they? No, they weren’t.

They never had been, and it looked like that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

The knife cut all the buttons off until his shirt was hanging open, and Will shivered as the blade stopped by the button on his jeans. It lingered there, and Will was shaking, and he heard the man chuckle softly.

Then the knife moved back up, Will letting out a quiet sigh of relief, until he realized the knife was being moved up to his neck. Slight pressure was applied, and Will gulped, leaning away from the blade in fear, until his head hit the man’s stomach. He flinched and didn’t know which was worse- feeling the man against him or having the knife to his throat.

The man chuckled again and pressed harder and harder, until he made a small slit in Will’s neck, who gasped aloud at the sting and the feel of blood dripping down his chest. He was on the verge of hyperventilating and there were tears in his eyes, and he struggled to blink them back, already having shown more fear that he wanted to.

But when the knife moved away from his throat and went back down to his pants, he realized he’d rather have the former, as the man finally cut the button on his jeans.

_This is it,_ Will thought. _He’ll rape me and hurt me, then leave me here to die._

But right as the man reached down to pull down his zipper, Will heard the sweetest sound he’d ever heard in his life:

He heard a car pull into his driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that! Apparently, every chapter's ending in a cliff hanger now. I didn't even do it on purpose XD  
> Also- I know my schedule's been messed up. life decided to throw a curveball and. whelp. you know how it is.  
> Also also- last night I went to prom for the first time and it was SO MUCH FUN :D  
> Anyway, I'll see you next weekend(ish)!


	14. All Good Things To Those Who Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to spoil anything and I don't think anything in here can be possibly triggering, but I will still leave my resources just in case: 1-800-656-4673  
> Enjoy this chapter and take care of yourselves <3

Back before Will was assaulted, he could easily get into the minds of rapists without even flinching. And, considering his job, that was a good thing. It was clinical, distant, and vague. But now? Now he truly understood; now that it had happened to him, it all made sense.

Of course, that brought up the question of what would happen if, one day, Will had to look at a crime scene of corpses and realize one or more victims had been raped. Would he panic? Would he faint? Or would he simply stand there, eyes wide and heart empty, trauma pulling at his gut?

They were grotesque and scary questions, yes, but they were ones Will would live to find the answer to, no matter their outcome.

Will was going to live. He was actually going to live. _He was going to live and pet his dogs again and see his friends and see Hannibal, and he could simply go up and kiss him, let Hannibal hold him when he cried, and nothing would ever matter again, and he’d finally be happy and-_

“Shit,”

Will took in a shaky breath, snapping out of his daze at the man’s utterance, looking out the window toward the car, and realized that the man was breathing heavily behind him.

It was going to be okay. For once in his godforsaken life, things would _finally_ turn out in his favor.

Will could feel the panic and indecision practically radiating from the man. He felt the smallest of smiles tug at his lips and had the strange urge to laugh as his bad luck suddenly seemed suspended in the air, and Will felt ten tons lighter as the horror of the situation dwindled.

But it didn’t last long.

Will supposed he should’ve seen it coming; with his level of empathy, he should be able to predict this guy’s every move, like he could with everything else.

But this time was different. This time, _he_ was the victim.

But it was already too late: with one long swipe, the man dragged the blade across Will’s chest and Will cried out in pain, blood instantly spilling down his stomach. His head felt woozy and light and there was warmth soaking into his skin, and everything seemed blurred and he felt nothing but stinging agony shooting through his body-

_“I can still hurt you. I don’t need to touch you to do that.”_

It was only a whisper spoken into his ear, but it sent full-body shivers down his spine.

Belatedly, Will’s mind registered the sound of rapid footsteps running across his floor, headed out the back door to his house. He realized the man was running like a coward, even after threatening him.

Will found it almost ironic how the worst of all mankind would tuck tail and run in the face of danger.

Somehow, it took Will quite a while to realize Hannibal was standing right in front of him, he was _right there,_ and Will wanted to simply cry out of relief. And, at some point, his dogs had rushed in and crowded around him worriedly, likely drawn in by the sound of his scream.

Hannibal managed to navigate his way through the dogs, and kneeled by his side quickly, cutting the rope binding him with a pocketknife, then slinging his nice jacket off and pressing it to the deep cut on Will’s chest, tears of pure rage running down his face.

“Hold this, Will,”

Hannibal said, placing Will’s hand where his was previously. His eyes darted around the room and landed on the hall leading to the back door.

Will had never seen him look like such a predator.

Suddenly, Hannibal was rising to leave, his face contorted with intent, clearly ready to tear the man apart.

But Will didn’t want him to leave. He felt panic tug at his heart, and he shot his free hand out to stop Hannibal from going.

“Please, don’t leave me,”

He managed to choke out, pain washing over him in waves as more blood continued running down his stomach.

“He’s gone, Hannibal. Stay. _Please._ ”

Will looked up at him with pleading, terrified eyes, and Hannibal’s face softened and he leaned down, forcing himself to forget about the man for now. He’d find him later, no matter how long it’d take. He could smell the man’s scent, even in his absence. Oh yes, he would most definitely find him. But Will was his first priority.

“Come, Will. We need to get you cleaned up. I’ll call Jack and paramedics can stitch your-”

“Don’t!”

Will blurted out when Hannibal helped him to his feet.

“Please don’t tell them. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Will, your injuries are ser-”

“Hannibal, _don’t._ Just help me. _Please._ ”

He reiterated desperately, tears brimming his eyes as he tried to process his physical and psychological wounds without breaking down.

“Okay. Okay, Will.”

Will could feel the rage in Hannibal slowly dwindle away until he was back to the confident man Will was used to seeing.

“I’m going to retrieve your first aid kit. Come.”

Hannibal led Will to his bed and sat him down. A few of the dogs jumped up on the bed with him, and Winston laid his head on Will’s lap, licking his trembling hand. Carefully, Will released some of the pressure on his chest to reveal the blood still flowing, only the edges of the cut starting to clot.

“This will need stitches,”

Hannibal said gravely.

“Wait here.”

Hannibal walked to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit, breathing heavily, feeling sick to his stomach.

He should’ve know the man would come back. He should’ve been there to protect him.

After the nausea passed, Hannibal went back to Will, finding him sweaty and pale, a blank expression on his face.

He kneeled carefully in front of him and opened the kit, slightly panicked to see only gauze and butterfly strips. It wouldn’t be enough.

“Will, I do not have the proper tools available here. I can access some at my home.”

Will turned his empty gaze to Hannibal, and he seemed to suddenly come back to himself- to reality. Hannibal dreaded to imagine what he was thinking.

He realized with a start that Will most likely wasn't thinking of anything. His mind wouldn’t be able to handle it the longer the relief began to fade, and the startling reality dawned upon him.

Will nodded weakly, gently moving Winston’s head off his lap, and Hannibal helped him to his feet, securing an arm around his waist. Will told his dogs to stay, and they watched in confusion as Will and Hannibal walked out to the driveway and got into the car.

Before driving away, Hannibal looked back at the broken door, the scent of the man still fresh in his nostrils, fresh enough to be engrained in his head.

Enough to be able to hold onto to track this man down.

oOo

The drive to Hannibal’s house was achingly long- so long, in fact, that Will’s wound had stopped bleeding for the most part.

Will had fallen asleep about 20 minutes into the drive, and Hannibal was careful to gently shake him awake. He woke with a start, eyes wide and panicked, but calmed after focusing his gaze on Hannibal.

Hannibal himself had a plethora of first aid supplies and surgical equipment. Will didn’t want to think about why. He had more important things to worry about.

Will soon found himself in one of Hannibal’s bathrooms, flinching at the cleansing of his wound. Many painful minutes later, Hannibal was finishing the last of his stitch work, pulling out rolls of soft gauze to wrap around him.

When he was done and taping down the edges of the gauze, he noticed with a sickening twist of his gut that the button of Will’s jeans was gone. He froze, eyes wide, heart pounding with pure, nauseating rage.

“He didn’t,”

Will whispered, drawing Hannibal’s gaze up to his face.

Hannibal felt his heart rate begin to steady at that, and let out a quiet sigh.

“Oh, Will,”

He looked absolutely miserable, covered in bandages speckled with blood and a tattered shirt barely hanging onto his shoulders.

“I have some clean clothes for you. They will be a bit big, but they will do.”

Hannibal ended up helping Will into a fresh change of clothes. Under other circumstances, Hannibal would’ve marveled at the sight of Will in his clothes. At the moment it only saddened him.

oOo

There was no way Hannibal was taking Will home where the man could be hiding still.

Then again…

No. He wanted the man dead so bad, but he wanted to make sure Will was safe more than that. So he led him to a guest bed and sat with him for a while, allowing Will the silence he needed and the company he wanted.

“My dogs,”

Will muttered suddenly. Hannibal sent him a questioning look before remembering his dogs were still at his house.

“I need to-”

“Will,”

Hannibal gently stopped him from getting up.

“I will call Alana. She can take care of them tonight.”

“But my door…she’ll know.”

“She will not tell anyone. I will not answer her questions if you do not want me to, but you need to rest. She will make sure they are safe.”

He nodded, visibly less tense, and settled back down.

“Sleep well, Will. If you need anything, my room is across the hall. Do not hesitate to wake me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Hannibal somehow managed a small, reassuring smile before leaving Will, turning off the light, and closing the door.

oOo

Hannibal paced in his bedroom, struggling to regain his composure so Alana wouldn’t worry.

In the end, he realized she would either way, so he finally called her.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Alana. I have to ask a favor.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Will is with me currently, and his dogs need to be fed. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

She paused.

“Is…everything alright?”

Hannibal sighed and contemplated something before saying,

“No. But Will does not wish me to share details with anyone as of yet. I must wait until he is comfortable with me explaining everything.”

“Of course.”

“However, I will warn you so you are not startled: Will’s door is broken. If you could, try to place it back in the frame- just enough to keep animals from coming inside in the night.”

“Broken? Wait, is Will hurt? Did someone break in? What-”

“Alana, please,”

He interrupted gently.

“Hannibal, I need to know what’s going on now. _What happened?_ ”

Hannibal hesitated before admitting,

“Yes, someone broke in. I do not all that took place, but the man had attacked Will. He cut Will with a knife, but it is nothing to worry about; I took care of it. I am having Will spend the night here. I assume the man is gone by now, but I am not sure.”

“Was it…you know?”

“Yes,”

Hannibal sighed heavily.

“His rapist came back.”

“Jesus.”

“From what I can gather of the man, you have no need to fear he will hurt you. When I arrived, he ran. It seems his only intention is hurting Will.”

“Hannibal…we should report this.”

“Not yet. Not until Will is ready.”

“…Okay.”

Alana sighed on the other end of the line.

“Thank you, Alana.”

“No problem. Call me later and let me know how he’s doing, okay?”

“Before you go- please do not speak of this to anyone- not even Will. I was not supposed to say anything.”

“Of course.”

“Goodbye, Alana.”

“Goodbye.”

oOo

After Hannibal had finally hung up, he shakily got ready for bed, even though he felt restless and uneasy. He tossed and turned in bed, feeling as if he would never sleep.

His only condolence was the lingering scent of the man- the scent he would use to ultimately find him and kill him.

Kill him, he hoped, with Will by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo another (ridiculously long) chapter! Are you guys used to me torturing you yet? I have so many plans for this fic and I'm really excited. Hang in there and I promise all will be resolved!  
> Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I'm currently re-reading my favorite book (which is legit 1500 pages) so I got to get cracking. I'll see you next weekend!


	15. Monsters Must Learn Subtlety- part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART ONE

Come morning, Hannibal had sat down with Will to eat breakfast they’d made. Will was silent, which was unsurprising, but had a contemplative yet distant look on his face.

When they began cleaning up, Will finally spoke for the first time that day.

“I need a drive to work.”

Hannibal paused washing the dishes and sent a confused look his way.

“Are you sure that’s wise, Will?

“…I can’t stay here. Not now. I think I’ll lose my mind if I do.”

They settled into another silence until they finished cleaning up, and Hannibal came to a decision.

“I shall drive you back to your house so you can get changed. But if you, at any point in time, get overwhelmed, please let me know and I will come get you.”

Will managed a weak smile and nodded his thanks.

It was all he had the energy to do.

oOo

Neither Will nor Hannibal said a single word the entire drive to Will’s house. It wasn’t tense or awkward, but Hannibal could tell Will was in no way doing better than last night- in a way, he was doing worse.

Of course, he was reluctant to leave Will alone, but he had to trust him to make the best decisions for himself.

Upon pulling up to Will’s house, Hannibal cautiously turned to him and said:

“I would like to meet you after your classes end. It has been a stressful time. I know that. Are you alright with my doing so?”

Will simply nodded before getting out of the car and walking up to his house, distantly noticing Alana had managed to shove the broken door back in its frame. Hannibal made a mental note to call a carpenter to fix it.

Once Hannibal heard the excited barking of Will’s dogs, who had now disappeared into the house, he drove back to his house to get ready for work. He knew he’d only be worrying about Will the whole time, but, unfortunately, he still had a job to do.

The day couldn’t end soon enough.

oOo

After what felt like days of talking to his patients and such, Hannibal finally headed to the Quantico headquarters, knowing Will’s class would finish in only a few minutes.

When he arrived, he walked as calmly as he could to the classroom door. On the way there, Hannibal had to maneuver his ways through a large crowd of students that had just left the room.

Finally, he was there and could see Will standing by his desk, a few select people still packing up and heading out. To him, the coast was clear enough, and he really couldn’t wait any longer. He’d never been so concerned and it honestly scared him.

“Hello, Will,”

Hannibal greeted as casually as possible, yet still let glimpses of concern and fondness peak through from his usually stoic expression.

Will mumbled “hello” back, his mood clearly having gone a bit downhill since the morning.

“How are you feeling?”

Will simply shrugged, mind clearly a million miles away at that point.

After a moment of just watching Will put his things together, Hannibal finally said,

“I called in a carpenter to replace your door. They will be there in two days.”

Again, a simple nod was all Hannibal got, but it was most definitely better than nothing.

Finally, when Will was finished, he actually made eye contact with him and attempted a smile.

“Thank you, Hannibal. Really.”

Hannibal was about to say, _It’s not a problem Will,_ when his attention was quickly drawn elsewhere, just behind him.

A familiar scent graced the air and Hannibal frowned, turning away from the desk and seeing a lone man lingering behind slightly, eyes locked onto Will, a small smile on his face.

He had brown hair and hazel eyes, and suddenly all the puzzle pieces fell into place, and Hannibal immediately froze in shock as he realized what this meant:

_Will’s rapist was a student._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: the chapter title was inspired by a line from the book Every Heart a Doorway
> 
> JSYK: I've had a recent family emergency and life is SUPER crazy right now, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to upload next weekend. If I can't, I'll let you guys know and I'll be on a temporary hiatus, but hopefully it won't come to that (especially considering this cruel cliffhanger).
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next time!


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